


Watch Me Fall Apart

by allyasavedtheday



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, This is as close to angst as you'll ever get from me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 08:44:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/696432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyasavedtheday/pseuds/allyasavedtheday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Stiles can remember the night he realised he trusted Derek."</p><p>Stiles is attacked by the Alphas and turns to Derek for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watch Me Fall Apart

**Author's Note:**

> Neither Teen Wolf or the characters are mine, obviously ;)  
> The title comes from Only Love by Ben Howard :)

Stiles can remember the night he realised he trusted Derek.

He remembers running into the Alpha twins.

He remembers threatening Aiden because he’d been trying to get to Lydia.

He remembers the punches and the kicks and the scratches.

He remembers falling to the ground and hearing the twins walk away.

He remembers staggering to his car and forcing himself to drive through the blinding pain. He battles with himself to keep his eyes open just long enough that he can find someone, go somewhere safe.

He remembers reaching Derek’s place and feeling like climbing the two steps to get to his front door is the most difficult thing he’s ever had to do.

He remembers the door opening and the horror that etches into Derek’s features the minute he lays eyes on Stiles.

He’s gentle, almost  _too_  gentle, when he pulls Stiles inside. Like he’s afraid he’ll break. Well, it’s a bit too late for that.

He doesn’t speak as he wraps an arm tentatively around Stiles’ middle and half walks, half carries him to the bathroom. He lets go of him to move to the cabinet and Stiles braces himself against the counter.

Derek turns back somewhat awkwardly and asks, “Can you, um…” He nods to the counter Stiles is leaning against and he realises Derek wants him to sit up on it. With great effort - and Derek’s hands hovering at his waist - he manages to pull himself up on the counter.

Derek sets a first aid kit down next to him, rifling through it momentarily. Stiles is too tired to pay much attention though.

A moment later Derek is in his line of vision again. He places a hand on the junction between Stiles’ shoulder and neck, holding him in place. With his other hand, he slowly begins cleaning the gash on Stiles’ cheek.

He anticipates a sting, expects that whatever it is Derek’s using to clean the wound will hurt. But he doesn’t feel anything. In fact, the constant throbbing he’d been feeling all over is beginning to subside, being replaced with a dull ache.

Belatedly, Stiles realises that Derek didn’t put his hand on his shoulder to hold him in place; he did it to take the pain away.

He doesn’t like watching the black, angry veins crawl up Derek’s arm so he focuses on Derek’s face instead. 

He looks angry, if the hard set of his mouth and the furrowed brow are anything to go by. But there’s determination hidden beneath it all.

“Sorry I showed up here,” Stiles mumbles as Derek washes his face with a cloth. There must be dirt all over it from when he fell. “You were the closest.”

Derek stills a moment and nods faintly, “It’s okay.”

He puts the cloth down with a sigh before meeting Stiles’ eyes again. “Stiles, _what happened_?”

“Alphas,” he half shrugs the shoulder Derek’s still holding. “I told them to leave Lydia alone.”

Derek looks like he really wants to be yelling right now but he restrains himself.

“I’m not  _in_  love with her anymore,” Stiles continues quietly, keeping his eyes downcast. “But I still-“

“You still love her and don’t want to see her manipulated by those assholes. I get it.” And y’know, he actually looks like he does. Like he completely understands Stiles’ reasoning.

“Where else is hurt?” Derek asks.

“Right shoulder,” Stiles murmurs.

When he doesn’t make an attempt to move, Derek sighs again. “Stiles, you’re gonna have to take off your shirt if you want me to help.”

He nods and lets Derek help him pull off his hoodie. But when Stiles tries to lift his shoulder to pull the shirt over his head a broken sob escapes his lips and he doubles over in pain.

Derek’s hand returns to his left shoulder instantly, easing the pain enough for Stiles to sit up straight.

“Thanks,” Stiles gasps, sinking back against the wall behind him.

Derek rips his shirt off when he realises Stiles physically  _can’t_  lift his arm and mutters something about letting Stiles borrow one of his shirts.

Stiles actually takes a moment to appreciate the irony before he cringes at the look on Derek’s face. He looks down at himself and can see purple bruises already blooming across his stomach. His shoulder and chest are completely shredded. It makes him feel sick.

Derek works silently, his touch feather-light but cool - it serves to calm the hot, ravaged skin surrounding the wound.

“Where’s Isaac?” Stiles finally asks, unable to stick the silence.

“Boyd’s house,” Derek mutters gruffly. “Family movie night.”

“You didn’t go?”

“Glad I didn’t now.”

Stiles feels the slightest pressure in his shoulder under Derek’s hand and thinks Derek probably needs the reassurance as much as he does.

“Why do you even have a first aid kit?” He isn’t sure if the need to ask every random question that comes into his head is his brain trying to avoid thinking about the obvious or from the sheer exhaustion he’s feeling.

Derek humours him though. “Just because I heal fast doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt,” he shrugs. “Besides more often than not there’s blood or dirt or glass that needs cleaning out,” Derek adds nodding to the cotton bud he’s using to clean Stiles’ shoulder. It’s already soaked with blood. Stiles doesn’t want to look at it.

“...You can’t turn from a scratch, right? …It has to be a bite?” It’s a thought that’s been niggling at him in the back of his mind ever since he felt the claws sinking into his shoulders.

He seeks out Derek’s eyes from beneath heavy eyelids, worrying his lip between his teeth.

“I don’t think so…Even if you could, this cut isn’t deep enough.” 

It feels pretty deep to Stiles. “Promise?”

Derek nods - more to himself than anything. “Promise.” 

Stiles quietens after that, if only because the way his head’s spinning is making it difficult to form words.

He knows when Derek’s done all he can because he steps back and assesses the damage. He doesn’t look happy at all but he at least  _tries_  to smile when he meets Stiles’ gaze.

He disappears from the bathroom and returns with a glass of water and what Stiles figures is some kind of pain medication before Stiles can even really process that he’s gone. 

“Take this,” Derek commands, setting the glass down next to Stiles and closing the pills into his hand. “I’ll get you a change of clothes then you’re calling your dad and I’m calling Scott.”

Derek disappears from the room again, leaving Stiles alone. He feels colder without Derek here. His blood feels like it’s crawling through his veins and it feels like there’s glass under his skin. His chest aches and his shoulder blazes with a white hot stinging sensation.

He’s really not sure he’s breathing right now.

And then, there’s that feeling again. The feeling of the pain ebbing away, being drawn out. The warmth is back. He can  _breathe_. 

His vision flickers but eventually focuses on Derek’s concerned eyes. 

“It’s okay,” Derek promises. “You’re okay.”

Stiles doesn’t know if he nods or not but Derek stops looking at him as if he’s made of glass - though he still looks wary.

He helps Stiles into a t-shirt, helps him down off the counter and shoves a pair of sweat pants into his hands. 

Stiles looks up with first hint of a quirk of a smile he’s had all night. “I didn’t even know you owned sweat pants.”

Derek rolls his eyes and all of a sudden, the tension breaks. “What do you think I sleep in?”

Derek makes to leave again but pauses at the door like he’s unsure whether he wants to leave Stiles alone.

Stiles rolls his eyes and forces the lightness back into his tone. “I can change my pants on my own. Don’t worry, I won’t keel over.” 

Stiles thinks Derek almost shakes his head fondly but he figures he probably has a concussion or something so he’s not in the right mind to judge.

When he pads back out to the living room he can hear Derek in the kitchen talking to Scott on the phone.

He fishes his own phone out of his pants pocket and skims through his contacts, finger hovering over his dad’s number for a moment before finally pressing ‘call’.

“Stiles?”

He steels himself before answering. He can already feel his throat becoming thick with tears. “Hey Dad.”

“You okay kiddo? You don’t sound so good?” The quiet concern in his father’s voice should be enough to break him. It almost is, but he forces his voice to remain steady.

“There’s uh…There’s been an incident.”

“What?  _What happened?_   _Are you okay?”_   Stiles can hear the panic from the other end of the line and feels the panic rise in his own chest in answer.

“I’m fine. I just…I’m at Derek’s.”

“Was it the Alphas?”

Stiles seriously prefers when his dad didn’t know about all this werewolf stuff.

“Yeah but  _Dad_ , don’t go looking for them, okay? I’m alright.”

There’s silence for a beat before Stiles hears his father sigh. “Just…stay there tonight and don’t go anywhere by yourself. I’m on the night shift and I don’t want you home alone.”

“Okay.”

“Come home first thing in the morning, got it?”

“Yeah.” Stiles’ throat aches and he knows if he doesn’t start sobbing any minute, he will soon.

“I love you.”

He barely gets out a shaky, “Love you too.” before he has to hang up the phone. He can’t let his dad hear him cry.

He drops his phone on the coffee table and braces his elbows on his knees, burying his head in his hands. He takes deep, measured breaths in a vain attempt to calm himself down.

He feels the couch dip next to him and knows Derek’s there. It must say something about his current state that he doesn’t even care that he’s crying in front of Derek Hale.

“We’re gonna meet Scott and his mom at Deaton’s in the morning. They’ll take a proper look at you.”

Stiles isn’t sure how, but he manages to nod while keeping his head buried in his hands.

Derek shifts and Stiles knows his hand is hovering above Stiles’ back like he’s not sure if comforting Stiles crosses some sort of line or not. His hand settles on Stiles back after a second; a light, comforting gesture that gives Stiles enough strength to keep himself grounded.

“I’ll get you a pillow and some blankets. Try to get some sleep.” Derek’s hand pats his back once and he leaves.

*

It isn’t until much later when Isaac’s crept back in through the front door and all the lights are off and the loft falls silent that Stiles’ mind goes into overload.

Every time he closes his eyes there’s a flash like a shutter on a camera and he’s jolted awake by a memory. New terrors from his experiences tonight and old memories that tend to creep up on him, haunting him at unexpected times.

He argues with himself for what feels like hours before dragging himself off the couch and tiptoeing into Derek’s room. 

He’s awake, of course. Stiles’ eyes have adjusted to the dark enough that he can just about make out the features on Derek’s face.

He takes one look at Stiles and pulls back the covers on his bed. A silent invitation.

Stiles crawls in with some trepidation but Derek doesn’t look like he’s going to change his mind.

They lie side by side but not touching for an indeterminable length of time. Both on their backs, staring into the darkness.

Finally Stiles can’t take the silence anymore. “How do you do it?” he asks the darkness.

“Do what?” is the reply.

“Not be scared all the time?”

Derek actually huffs a laugh at that. “What are you talking about? Stiles, I’m  _terrified_.”

“You don’t seem it,” Stiles mumbles, fumbling with the comforter.

Derek sighs, rolling his head to the side to look at him. Stiles follows suit a moment later.

“Find an anchor,” Derek murmurs.

“I thought that was to stop you from wolfing out though?”

“It is. But I don’t see why it can’t be used to control human emotions too. Think of something or  _someone_  that makes you feel safe. If you go to that place whenever you’re scared, you can control it.”

Stiles is silent a minute to ponder that. “But…how does anger stop you from being scared?” 

At Derek’s inquisitive look Stiles shrugs sheepishly. “Isaac told me once.”

Derek seems to put a lot of thought into his answer. “You know when you’re upset but you don’t want to break down? So you get angry instead?”

Stiles nods.

“Well it’s like that. If I’m angry I don’t have to think about being scared.”

“Was that always your anchor?” Stiles asks, gently rolling onto his side.

“No…it used to be my family. We were all each other’s anchors. It was like one big safety net. It was our way of keeping each other grounded.”

Stiles thinks of their own pack. It’s smaller than Derek’s family was and they’re all sort of broken in their own individual ways. They fight a lot and they’re still technically two separate packs. But they all care about each other in this weird, twisted way and they’ve all risked their lives to save one another at some point. And suddenly Stiles gets what Derek means about having a safety net. Because he has that. They all have that. They have each other for better or worse now.

Stiles thinks about Derek then. About how lost and lonely he must’ve felt for the past seven years. About how even though he’s never really confessed to enjoying Stiles’ company, he still never hesitates to save his life and vice versa. About how he cared for Stiles tonight, saw him at his most vulnerable and did nothing other than try to put him back together…

“Dude…if I tried to cuddle you right now, on a scale of 1 to ‘rip my throat out with your teeth’ how badly would you react?”

Stiles thinks Derek might be hiding a smile but he can’t really see. But then Derek lifts his arm with an exasperated sigh and mutters a, “C’mere,” so he thinks he was probably right.

Stiles head falls to rest on his chest and he can hear Derek’s steady heartbeat underneath him. Derek’s fingers ghost over his shoulder and Stiles knows he’s tracing the wound.

Stiles might curl closer because he thinks it’s probably been a long time since someone held Derek for comfort.

And Derek might hold him tighter because of the same reason.

“Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for taking care of me tonight.”

“It’s okay.”

Another moment of silence passes and Stiles speaks up again. Though this time, it’s barely above a whisper.

“Derek?”

“Yes, Stiles?” Derek sighs.

“I trust you.” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> So basically whenever fics are tagged as Hurt/Comfort but don't have any cuddling I get irrationally angry so this was going to have cuddles. okay, that's just the rule.


End file.
